Dance-Off
by Enochian Whisperer
Summary: Basically an AU where Team Free Will has to combat the Trickster once again (and yes, I mean /Trickster/). Set before they discover that the Trickster is the archangel Gabriel. This time around, the Trickster's taken a new spin on self-entertainment: dance. Destiel included, may add Sabriel later on, but no guarantees.
1. Cotton-Eye Joe

_Where did you come from? _

_Where did you go?_

_Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?_

Dean whipped around as colored lights flashed and swirled around him. He couldn't make anything out beyond these lights that swung and spun overhead. Just a moment ago he had entered what was /supposed to be/ a hospital bed room. Now he on some kind of stage or dance floor. What the hell just happened? It didn't take Dean as long to figure it out this time. He had been through this routine before. He turned around.

"God... damn it! Sam?!"

His brother was nowhere in sight. He could only hope that Sam would turn up quickly. Country music. God, he hated country music. But this wasn't just country music, it was country music on steroids. Dean looked around again for an exit. Any exit. This music was driving him nuts. He paced back and forth on the floor, searching. He covered his ears, cringing. If Satan divvied this up as his own personal piece of Hell, he would be beyond screwed.

"SAM!"

"Dean?"

Dean whirled around, and nearly fell from how fast he spun. He quickly saw that he wasn't wearing his boots anymore.

"Cas?! ...What the Hell are you wearing?"

Cas was apparently unaware of his own attire, because he looked down. He was donning full-on cowboy getup. Boots, hat, and all. He looked just as surprised, eye blown wide as if he was a deer caught in headlights. Dean inspected himself. He was a cowboy too. Here was a terrible conflict: Dean hated country music, but he had to admit, being dressed up made it better. He had a thing for westerns and this sweetened the pot. Now if only someone would turn off this damned soundtrack-

"Let me guess!" Dean yelled over the music, "The Trickster!"

"I don't think so, Dean! Whatever this is-"

Cas gagged and the Winchester blinked. Castiel was gripping at his own face, trying to peel off a print bandana that was crammed between his teeth and tied back. Dean looked around frantically.

"HEY!" he shouted, "I know you're here! Come on out, you coward!"

There was no response. Castiel couldn't untie the bandana, and Dean couldn't undo the knot either. He cursed again.

"Can't you zap up out of here?" he asked, trying to at least tug the damn fabric down. The angel shook his head. Great, Dean thought. "Then how the Hell do we get out of this?" It was vain to ask; Castiel couldn't answer him. Dean remembered that he had a switch in his pocket and he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a band of Pixie Sticks, and that was a sure enough slap in the face. Frustrated, Dean hurled the sugar into the darkness and walked it off. Castiel didn't move and just watched, arms slacked at his sides. God, Dean was going to scream if somebody didn't turn off this music! But then he got an idea. A stupid, humiliating idea.

"I think I got it-" Dean wheeled back to Cas, "-We have to dance." He swallowed. "We literally have to _dance as if our lives depend on it._" Dean was going to the wring the Trickster's neck for this. "But it's a damn shame we don't know the COTTON-EYE JOE!" he shouted up at the ceiling, arms spread as if he was inviting the enemy down.

Dean went ignored again, and he sighed, rubbing his brows, with a hand on his hip. He paced a bit, tapping his foot. He stopped and watched his foot. That was it. He was doing it.

"Cas, follow my lead," he beckoned quickly, pulling the shorter man alongside. Castiel watched him, and then effortlessly, he found himself in tandem. They picked up the steps quickly, kicking and swinging and skipping side to side. It came naturally, much to their surprise. All they had to do was go with it. Dean almost laughed ecstatically, he couldn't believe it.

"Son of a BITCH!"

He whooped as he locked arms with his best friend. They broke into a square dance, circling tightly together, switching sides and spinning quickly before the music finally stopped. The two of them halted and had to catch their breath. When Dean realized that he had actually _enjoyed himself_, he coughed profusely and looked away.

"This did _not_ happen," he warned Castiel. Not that Castiel could spill secrets. He was still muffled.


	2. Swan Lake

Dean had only just blinked and the scene had changed completely. He was in a wide open room. The floor was cement and the walls were white-washed cinder block. There were large single-paned grids of windows along three of the walls. Along the fourth wall was a staircase that led to a door. But the second that Dean stepped toward the door, the staircase vanished.

Of course.

Soft, but peppy flute music began to play. Dean recognized it instantly as Swan Lake.

"Oh, no," he groaned, and looked down. He was in a black leotard and slippers. He would admit to watching ballet in his leisure time, but only for the hot girls.

"Oh God," he heard from next to him.

"-Sam?" Dean had to do all he could not to look his own brother up and down. His brother's leotard was _leopard print_. "...As if this wasn't awkward enough already," he said, looking back. The brothers were instead startled to see Castiel. He was also leotard-clad. The bandana was gone; a thick creamy silk ribbon replaced it. It offered very small amusement to see it was tied neatly into a bow in the back.

"Help me get this off-" Dean told Sam, and they both tried to untie the ribbon to no avail. The music kept playing, and they gave it, listening to the tune instead.

"Swan Lake? Really?" Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"We had to dance the Cotton-Eye Joe before," Dean offered as consolation, "–Actually, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"I had to do the Harlem Shake." Sam looked at Dean.

"...What?"

"Yeah."

"By yourself?"

"Ye-ah," Sam nodded. Dean looked ahead again.

"Wow, uh, that's not awkward at all-"

"You're telling me."

"Did you have to do the thing where you act oblivious or do the shimmy-"

"The shimmy."

Dean made no comment.

"Took me three tries to figure that out."

"_Three?_"

Sam shook his head at the ridiculousness of this whole thing.

"Well, we better get a move on, or we'll be trapped here forever."

Dean didn't want to and he was sure that Castiel didn't either, but he agreed. They waited for the soundtrack to loop again, before they stepped in.


	3. K-Pop

"Oh god-" Dean gasped, staggering as the scene changed around him once again. He huffed and rubbed his inner thighs painfully because he was _not that_ _flexible_-

He didn't have any remote idea where he was now, but it was some kind of stage in the middle of a lightning storm. Sam and Castiel weren't with him. It looked like he was flying this one solo. Or dancing.

Or... Not.

Suddenly Dean had accompaniment. He was surrounded by Asians, all of them drastically shorter than he was. Some of them were _blonde_. He found himself wearing a headset, and his clothes—

"Oh god, I'm a boy-band douche bag-" Dean cried out to no one. Only douche bags wore tacky wanna-be attention whore crap like this— Dean ripped off the pin-striped neon tie slung haphazardly around his neck and flung it on the ground. The young men around them paid him no mind and arranged themselves onstage. They were wearing headsets too. Dean had a bad feeling that he was going to have to sing for this one-

The music suddenly blared, making him flinch, and one of the singers jumped his own cue, singing in _Korean_. When the silence held out, Dean began to sweat. The music dropped with direction, and the men around him began to dance. Dean realized he was supposed to be the lead, but all he could do was gape. This was utter _crap_. The boys were dancing so fast, with heavy steps that clicked their boots and rattled chains and tossed loose fabric about. It was unbelievable, in more than one sense.

The music finally ended and the boys struck poses with finality. Dean was still gaping.

The boys rearranged themselves to go again, and Dean shook his head. What the actual _Hell_?

The boy were ready to go again, and Dean gave up. He positioned himself as well. He would never forgive himself for this. The lead singer drew out his voice, and the same silence followed. The music dropped again, and Dean leapt forward.


	4. Slow-Dancing (Take One)

Dean almost dropped an F-bomb when the sequence transitioned. He was about to tear off his outfit of epic douchery but he was relieved to see that he had been automatically redressed. He was in a tuxedo. There was a blossom in his lapel. Dean looked up again, and felt his own hair. It was slicked down. He looked around to see that he was in a dimly lit room. There was a wood dance floor under his feet, tiled in squares. There were couples everywhere around him, and they were slow-dancing. Finally, the Trickster was cutting him a break. He still felt wary though. He looked around. Dean couldn't progress without a dance partner.

A pretty lady appeared in a black sequin floor-length gown, and she smiled. Her blond hair was tied back in a bun, and her earrings glittered as they dangled. Dean found himself grinning at her. This wouldn't be so bad after all. He approached her and wordlessly asked for her hand. She accepted, and they joined hands, slowly rotating together amidst the other couples. They carefully dipped together, and he twirled her around once, catching her at the waist. Dean's mind was beginning to drift to less formal topics, but a sharp pain in his lower spine straightened his posture and he remembered that this girl wasn't real. He focused back on the dance and lead the way. The girl's hands climbed up his arms as they were pulled close together, and that temptation was pricking him again. The piano music was winding down and Dean was almost sorry that it was ending. All of the dancers bowed to each other, and Dean followed suit. But the kiss his partner planted on his lips at the very end was a pleasant surprise. He chuckled a little, before that same piece started up again. This brushed up the Winchester's concern. Had he made a mistake during the dance? He didn't know, but he didn't really mind another dance with the pretty lady. And another. And another.

The fifth go really had Dean worried. What was he doing wrong? He was sure that all of his steps were flawless, so what was the clincher? Was it his partner? He tried to ask her questions, but he was politely ignored as they went through the motions again. He wondered if maybe he had to put more soul into the dance, and he even got bold with the kiss at the end.

The sixth time, Dean was nearly being led by the girl. He looked around the room, seeking any clues that might help him. He tried to follow the direction of the lights even though it was utter nonsense. But as they made a pass, Dean spotted none other than Castiel.

"_Cas!_" he hissed urgently. The angel's head snapped away from the brunette he was entreating. Dean saw that the gag was gone from his friend's mouth this time, and he tore away from his female partner. Castiel pulled away from his partner as well.

"Dean, this isn't a-"

Castiel's voice rasped, and the man felt his throat.

"Cas?"

His friend's mouth was forming words, but there was no voice to accompany it. At best, he only managed little sounds. Castiel knew something, and whatever he knew, it would give the Trickster away somehow. It was obvious that the Trickster knew this too. Dean looked around again. The Trickster had to be here in the room somewhere. But of course the Trickster wouldn't be stupid enough to just show his face. He'd be disguised.

Dean felt a tap on the shoulder, and he nearly whaled on his own dance partner. She wasn't smiling. Rather, she had a look of near-disdain.

"Play your roles."

He glanced her up and down.

"Now you're talkative?"

It hit him a second later, and he shoved her up against the nearest wall.

"You little bitch."

"Not me, _no_," she shook her head, "I'm just a mouthpiece. Now _play_ your _roles_."

"Where is he?"

The girl smiled again, and she looked over Dean's shoulder intently. Dean's eyes followed hers to the angel.

"_Mum's_ the word~" she sniveled, zipping her lips demonstratively.

Dean backhanded her.


	5. Slow-Dancing (Take Two)

Dean tipped and jerked to keep his balance. He was in the middle of the dance floor again. Something felt very wrong this time, and Dean was aghast.

"G-! ...COME ON!" he screamed. Lo and behold, he was now wearing his partner's sequin gown. The couples around him ignored his outburst, and he felt a brush from behind.

"I thought you'd be above hitting a lady."

Dean turned around to see his partner wearing _his tux_. She was hand-in-hand with Castiel's partner.

"I guess I was wrong," she shrugged, lifting her brows.

"Stop this," Dean glowered at her, "Cut the crap _right now_!"

"—No." she answered briskly, sweeping her new partner away, "Play your roles."

Dean remembered Castiel, and he turned around to find his best friend still intact. He immediately knew what the blonde was getting at.

"Oh, this is _sick!_" he directed at the ceiling angrily. For the first time, he was glad that Cas was unable to comment. The man was staring at him curiously with squinted eyes, and it gave Dean the willies. He took it back: he wanted to hear Castiel's voice disprove the words he was hearing from him in his head. He stared at the shorter man in turn. Envy was burning in him; Castiel should be in this position, not him. But he wasn't the one who hit the lady. Reluctantly, Dean drew closer. Heels clicked and he wobbled ever so slightly. He was partly hoping he would trip and the fall would kill him.

"...I guess we have to _dance again_," Dean's enthusiasm dripped with sarcasm. Castiel was looking down.

"Hey. Huggy Bear, eyes up here."

The angel lifted his eyes with clumsy effort. Dean watched him, and he was seriously questioning Castiel's demeanor. With a nod, the dark-haired man stepped back a bit, and extended an open hand. It took a few moments before Dean responded, and accepted the hand with a swallow. God, he couldn't believe this was happening to him.

Dean couldn't shake the tingling feeling he was getting from where Castiel's hand was touching his back as they moved together. Their calloused hands entwined had stories of their own to tell. Dean found a small bump between one of Castiel's knuckles and his finger shied from it.

"Don't drop me," Dean warned. At that moment, Castiel swung Dean down, and gravity took control. Castiel was struggling to hold his partner up. Dean undoubtedly weighed more than Castiel. Luckily, he was able to pull Dean back up, and it left Dean with a thought: Castiel was an angel. But not just that so much. Castiel should've been able to hold him no problem. What happened to his strength? And Cas couldn't zap them out of here. What was going on? Could the Trickster cancel out Castiel's connection to Heaven?

Dean noticed that the flowers in his friend's lapel were violets. He was doing his best to stay level-headed, but internally, he was still freaking out. Dean flinched, and reached behind to yank Castiel's hand back up. He glared at the angel, and though he couldn't express an apology, Dean figured it was an honest mistake. For Pete's sake, his face was heating up, what the Hell?

Dean was glad when the pianist was coming close. The two men spun slowly together, and then broke apart to bow. Dean spied his female parter kissing Castiel's partner a few couples away.

Oh God.

Dean looked at Castiel.

Did he have to-

Castiel took the initiative for him.


End file.
